Spanking Briefs #5: The Witch in the Pillory

Yelena had always been an outsider, regarded with uneasy suspicion by folksy neighbours fearful of her unnatural talents. Anxious of the bold iconoclast who dared challenge the staid conventions of their parochial rural world, whispers started, of witchcraft, that their misfortunes were her curses. Until eventually, the church elders demanded her humiliation. 

They dragged her to the standing pillory in the village square. She reacted stoically as they forced her head and wrists into the stockade, powerless to resist when they rolled up her dress and pulled down her undergarments. They roughly kicked aside her feet, wedging a spreading beam between her thighs.

A leering, jeering, cheering crowd had come to witness her degradation. Although looking out from the pillory, she saw nobody. All had gathered behind her, eager to gloat as the birch struck her pretty bare bottom, hoping to glimpse her little slit winking as she squirmed.

The restless rabble seethed impatiently, hundreds of voices merging into the roar of a ravenous animal, like a pursuing predator, hungry to devour her. The birch pressed against her buttocks, scratchy and prickly, branches bending slightly, ominously foreshadowing its painful potency.

The rod rose amid a soaring crescendo of excitement. They saw her as captured prey, trapped and exposed for their lewd amusement. How little they appreciated the forces beyond their feeble understanding, and the cunning enchantment she had in store.

She’d never attempted to escape, knowing the whole village would assemble to watch her whacking. The collective erotic energy here was enormous. A tempest of danger energy. She could feel the onlookers’ lust flooding through her, the intent of their stiff pricks, aggressively wanting to stride forward and violate her. She could sense the watching maids’ wetness, some yearning to take her place in the pillory, others eager to swish the punishment rod.

She would focus all that lascivious power to cast the ultimate avenging charm.

She began to whisper the sounds of arcane runes, then yelled them as the birch seared her buttocks with fiery stripes, imbuing her incantation with even greater intensity. The lecherous crowd ignored her cryptic gasps, all so transfixed nobody ever noticed the grin on her face.

Hours later, as a shroud of darkness smothered dusk’s deep shadows, her magic germinated. The pillory latch unlocked itself, finally permitting her the relief of stretching upright.

Then, under milky moonlight, a peculiar Spanking Mania swept through the village. All those who’d watched her whacking were overtaken by sudden urge to spank and be spanked. 

Wives took hairbrushes to their husbands. 

Maids were put over knees.

Neighbours caned neighbours.

Lovers clutching slippers chased, wrestled, and walloped each other.

From where she stood in the central square, the sound of smacking erupted from every direction, sporadic at first, then continuously, as if the whole village had united to applaud her ingenuity. All would wake in a daze tomorrow, with inexplicably sore and stinging bottoms, bewildered by hazy half-remembered memories.

Quite unseen, the witch cupped herself, exulting in her mischief.

feetman80-deactivated20220409:

Tickling 2

God that looks like fun. I would probably die, given my last matchup with the hard brushes… but I’d be willing to take it like a man. Just… a tickly man

BOY THIS MISTRESS SURE LOOKS MEAN! (…I must say I’m rather envious of him).

- Masterful Madames Vol 2 No 2 [Executive Imports]